


Thanks For The Memories

by LuciferIsSatan



Series: Starting Over [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Daedra (Elder Scrolls), Drunkenness, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferIsSatan/pseuds/LuciferIsSatan
Summary: A few drinking games with a stranger in some pub, and suddenly he's semi aware in a mess of bodies with one of the most striking dark elf he's ever seen straddling his hips.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Revyn Sadri
Series: Starting Over [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711696
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	Thanks For The Memories

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is not at all apart of the Cornerstone universe necessarily, but rather heavily inspired by that scene in the Witcher with Yennifer hosting some magic induced orgy and the fact I've been listening to Thnks fr th mmrs by Fall Out Boy on repeat; so this scenario came to mind. You can't convince me Sanguine hasn't hosted drunken orgies, so you can meet me in the pit.
> 
> WARNING: There is some suggestive art in this chapter, and for some fuckin' reason on desktop it's really big but if I size it lower it's puny on phone screens so -- maybe don't have your screen in plain view of anybody. And also this was written in like 7ish hours so apologies if anything reads weird. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: I mildly updated the image bc I hated Gal's face and my skills have improved a bit so that's nice.

Galvorn Túrin is a few things; a bosmer, an archer, six foot ten, and something called Dovahkiin. He's a vagabond, a hopeless romantic, and at his core, of course, a hedonist.

Galvorn wasn't a partier, necessarily, but it was difficult to turn down a chance to enjoy himself, especially so when it felt like the world was slowly coming to an end. Bandits ravaged the streets, a war was raging and building bloodier by the day, families were torn, and dragons were terrorizing the skies of this frozen dreary land. Galvorn was, at his very core, someone who desired to do good; to leave a place better than how he found it, dedicating every ounce of himself to fix problem after problem, throwing himself needlessly at the beck and call of powers greater than him, swallowing his fear, and anxiety in the face of a fate the God's cursed him with. Swallow the souls of the terrible beasts, the fate of Tamriel hanging in the balance of his incapable hands; so when the evening rolled around, and he stumbled exhausted into some shabby inn at the base of the Throat of the World looking for some minor escape from his responsibilities, he was pleased to be approached by a friendly-looking Nord man in dark robes, asking to share in a drink.

Galvorn, arguably, isn't that much of a drinker; but this day had been particularly difficult, with news of the return of the World-Eater, and Gal needed something desperately to get his mind off of it.

The man introduced himself as Sam, who looked him up and down and read him like a book; he was a man who knew his way around a conversation the same way he knew his way around a bottle. He offered an escape, something brief of course, suggesting a bit of mindless fun with friends, buying them a round before Galvorn could think twice. He bought multiple actually; Gal wasn't exactly counting. Drink between drink, chatter falling between them easy, as if they've known each other forever; laughing, speech slurring, smiling lopsidedly around the lip of his freshly refilled mug. He has no memory of them leaving, just vague encouragements from a warm voice filling his head with promises of getting away from it all. There were hands on his shoulders leading him elsewhere, the potent taste of dry red wine strong on his tongue, the feeling of grass against bare feet, the sky full of stars above head.

He doesn't know where he is but there is so much laughter around him, and he's smiling so much his face hurts. He doesn't know when he shed his clothes, he doesn't really know when his back hit the ground, feeling hands running along his inner thighs, seeing flashes of Sam a little ways off; relaxing like a lord on a fine chair at the edge of this expansive garden, filled goblet in hand as he oversaw the activities building before him.

Galvorn's head is so foggy, but he hears a collection of moans and gasps around him, hands dragging down his thighs and squeezing him anywhere they could reach; everything felt good, felt calm, warm. His eyes were hazy, as the stress seemed to melt and for a time, he forgot about the dragons, forgot about the war, the soldiers, the Blades..-

A mouth dragged against his jaw and he turned to meet it.

Like honey, the other's mouth responded in hazy want. Gal felt the bump of someone falling to his side, noting through dragged out kisses an Imperial woman with her legs apart on the ground beside him, crying out loudly as a strikingly muscular nordic woman made quick work of her. Galvorn struggled to make out any faces between the absolute sea of bodies in this garden, surrounded by tall hedges and an endless sky. He looked at the person dragging their hands along the scars littering his chest, tasting of something so much sweeter than what Gal was drinking, looking at them through hooded blown up eyes.

Skin dark and smooth, hair a coarse mess and a distinct flush dragging from the bridge of their rounded nose towards their sharp cheekbones, painting the tips of their pointed ears a lovely dark shade of grey. Gal took a particular interest as they pulled closer, hooking a bare leg over his waist, pleasantly surprised, as he dragged his own hands down their soft angular waist to find that his lovely new companion was a man.

There was the steady sound of drums playing somewhere beyond the bushes, a lute being strummed somehow far away and yet everywhere at once, hypnotizing as the dunmer shifted against Galvorn's groin, tongue dragging against loose lips as the bosmer squeezed his plump rear. Swallowing a breathy groan, they shared air as the dunmer dragged his palm down Galvorn's chest, fingers trailing through the coarse blonde curly hair leading to his groin, pressing the flat of his palm against the length of his arousal. He smiled faintly against the bosmer's lips when Gal sucked in a sharp breath.

Teeth caught his lower lip, and need filled his belly.

There was so much movement in his peripheral, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the hand that was building friction between his legs, or the flash of intense beautiful red eyes staring him up and down, face flushed with heat and need and his lips were parted and Galvorn felt hazy and hot; pulling the dunmer forward with a jolt, mouths slamming together and dislodging the hand, the dark elf following his lead. He ground down against the wood elf he was straddling as soon as he was pulled flush against the other's chest, threading his fingers through once tightly pulled back hair, hips jerking, mindlessly pressing and moving, Gal squeezing the soft flesh of his rear and earning these needy little whines in return.

Galvorn readjusted positions, pressing against the dark elf's backside before some cognizant part of his brain told him he needed some kind of lubricant, blinking a bit; he looked around a little blindly, and the dunmer must have sensed the hesitation, grabbing the bosmer's wrist and pulling the hand to his mouth.

Gal instinctively ran his thumb across the dark elf's pout, watching rather dazed as his lips parted, the flat of his tongue flicking out and dragging against the digit, and in Gal's dumbfounded inebriated haze, he connected the dots.

The dunmer's hands dropped to Gal's hips, pressing close. Gal dragged his other hand against the dip of the dark elf's collar, trailing up his throat to grip the back of his head, the dunmer opening his mouth to accept the roam of fingers, as Gal felt the edges of sharp teeth. Yet, the other's tongue trailed like a familiar friend along the shape of them; he was slow and sloppy and his hips were rocking and Galvorn had never seen someone so fucking beautiful in his life.

He pulled his fingers free with a soft ' _pop_ ', pulling the dark elf to him, clashing mouths, all teeth and tongue as Gal wrapped his hand around and pressed against the others rear who eagerly pressed back. A warm moan bubbled up from the dunmer's throat, sweet like the wine that stained the inner edges of his lips, rocking back against the digits, hands gripping and tugging like he couldn't get close enough.

He didn't know how long they were like that, hearing the growing crescendo of moans and slapping of skin against skin; Glasses clinking, inebriated laughter and dozens of shared heavy breathing among the numerous bodies writhing in the garden. The dunmer only grew more and more impatient, breathy plea's against his lips when Galvorn added another. Gal had never felt an ache so intense in his life when the dunmer dragged his tongue against the palm of his own hand before wrapping it around the base of Galvorn's arousal, slicking him up best he could, before suddenly dislodging the wood elf's grip on him.

The transition was smooth, clunky in only the way two very wasted elves could be, as the dark elf raised his hips, Gal slipping his hands against the base of his ass to adjust the angle, and within moments he breached. Fingers dug into his shoulders painfully, but the heat surrounding him more than made up for it, watching in awe the slack pleasure flood the dunmer's face, brows pinched when he became fully seated. Whether it was the intent didn't matter, because it felt impossibly intimate when the dark elf kissed him then, legs shaking, cheeks impossibly dark, chest blossoming in a flush, with an impossibly weak sound falling from his lips.

Gal couldn't get enough.

Praise spilled from his mouth in hoarse breathy whispers that the dunmer just drank up like another one of his cups that night. It didn't take very long for the dark elf to start moving..- moving his hips in slow circles, getting use to the feeling. Gal could barely breathe, running his hands along his thighs, up his back, down his sides, until he gripped the base of his leg's, pulling him up with ease to drop him down again.

By the _Divines_ he was noisy, and even in his drunken stupor the dunmer seemed embarrassed by it enough to try and muffle himself but Galvorn would be damned if he let him succeed. He dragged his hands down his arms, pressing kisses against the corner of his mouth, humming praises against his skin, encouragements; it seemed to help.

The dark elf built a rhythm.

Galvorn felt the bump of someone against his side, hearing a sharp gasp from another sloshed participant a few bodies down.

The dark elf dragged his hands down from the bosmer's freckled shoulders to his chest, pushing him on his back. Gal ran his own hands along spread legs, drinking up the bounce of his hips with such a need, feeling the heat clench envelop him with every broken thrust up, until the dunmer jolted, hand snapping to his mouth. Gal stopped, looking confused, worried he was hurt - but the dunmer twisted his hips again, searching, before he began moving a bit harder, his breaths coming out short and desperate and Galvorn realized quickly what the dark elf accidentally found.

Galvorn leaned forward, encircled the other's narrow waist, and with a little momentum swapped their positions. The dunmer landed against soft dirt and thick grass, legs encircling the Dragonborn's hips like a vice. Gal clung to him, pressing harder and quicker, need flooding him when the beautiful thing writhing beneath him mouthed the corner of his neck, biting and sucking purple little love marks along his collar, fingers digging against shoulder blades when Galvorn finally, _finally,_ found that sweet spot; the dunmer muffled an _ungodly_ cry against Gal's shoulder, and he realized then how much he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

It ended as hazy as it started, feeling his lips trail up to meet the want spilling from the other's mouth, ecstasy crashing into them like a wave.

He lost time somehow, waking up in the inn he started in.

Galvorn's head ached, feeling as if he'd been yanked from a most vivid dream; but the sting of nail marks against his back felt too real, noting the love bites training his throat reflected back at him when he pushed himself to use the washroom some hours later.

He didn't really know why he felt as mournful as he did, as despondent considering how good he had felt in the moment.

He didn't ask him his name.

He had no idea who he was.

Was he even in Skyrim? Did he live in any of the nearby holds? What did he do? Did he actually exist or was it some delusion? Gal could still taste him, filled with this dread and upset of uncertainty over some foolish lack of knowing even where to begin.

Galvorn wasn't even fully sure why he wanted to know. It was just sex, right?

He tried not to think about it further, deciding the likelihood of coming across him again was next to none, and besides; he had dragons to worry about. Sam convinced him into a night of drunken fun and it worked, he felt better, or at least he tried to convince himself of it. Gal dressed, lacing his boots distractedly when he noticed a little white slip sitting on the nightstand, not quite remembering if it had been there before but reaching for it regardless.

It was thin parchment, like the edge had been torn from a book somewhere and scribbled on.

_'I noticed you had a favourite._

_I picked him up from Windhelm, in case_

_you wanted to know._

_with love,_

_your best buddy Sam.'_

Galvorn took very little time throwing his things on and rushing out the door.

~

Windhelm was a bitter, frozen city. Galvorn didn't travel to certain holds on principle, especially a Stormcloak cesspool as this; it was early morning by the time he stepped through the gate, a few week's after the encounter in the garden. Noticing upon entree an unpleasant group of nords harassing a dunmer woman, but when he went to approach he didn't have a chance to interfere before they dispersed. Her frustration was malleable, but she was forthright enough when she noticed his pointed ears.

It didn't take him very long to realize the sort of hold he stumbled into. Yet, he kept his eyes to the many faces he waltzed past, staying friendly and avioding the gaurds like a plague. He treaded the back alleys, following the damaged roads the woman from before pointed him down, clueless on where to begin in such a big place, passing a number of folks until he landed in the lowest street. There were a few shoppes down this way, a restaurant, and a small inn.

It made the most amount of sense to start at one, he supposed, and work his way down. Looking over the homely little entrance to a used wares shoppe, he straightened up his armour, making sure he wasn't a complete mess before pushing inside with a little huff, brushing the flurries of snow from his hair.

It was a cozy interior, warm wooden furniture and interesting wares and trinkets lining tall shelves from wall to wall. The lighting was soft, dunmeri decorations making home along the wooden panels of the front counter.

There was a dunmer man standing a bit further off to the side, sifting through and seemingly reorganizing his shelves when Galvorn stepped in, arms full of potion bottles from perhaps a recent shipment, saying over his shoulder, "Trader dropped by recently with some lovely pieces, if you'd like to have a look!" examining the labels of each bottle carefully before gracefully and quickly moving them into their correct spots.

Galvorn.. had a very particular feeling about him immediately. It was too outrageous for him to have accidentally landed in front of the very person he was looking for, but maybe it was a minor apology from the gods for cursing him with the worst fate in existence.

"Anything you recommend?" Galvorn stepped up to the counter, leaning against it with his hip, crossing his arms.

"The smart thing would be to say everything, I suppose, but I personally rather liked a set of-" he glanced up at the wood elf as he spoke, looking back to the bottle in his hand before he did a double take.

Oh it was absolutely him.

The clothes he was wearing were purposely baggy around the waist; simple but well put together, and Galvorn couldn't forget his face even if he wanted to.

Galvorn crossed his leg at the ankle; "Set of..? What?"

His voice seemed to snap the dunmer from his stupor, watching in delight as heat flooded his cheeks, absently wiping his palms against the front of his pants, stirring into action.

"Er- yes, the uh..-" he slipped behind the counter, "these lovely Gauntlets," he pulled a pair off the wall, slipping them in front of the wood elf, and there was a funny little moment where he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands before settling on leaning against the counter on his elbows, arms crossed inward, "these..- didn't come in today but I think they're a lovely set, very finely crafted and it's a shame nobody has snatched them up in a while just collecting dust and are you the dragonborn?"

Galvorn startled, but the dark elf quickly pulled something from his pocket, fumbling with a scrap of paper and all but throwing it at him. Gal barely grabbed it, recognizing the type and seeing the fine script torn on the back from some sad torn page from a tome to the folded inside, looking at the sloppy familiar scrawl;

_'See! I knew you had it in you!_

_Wasn't expecting you to climb the dragonborn_

_like that, but we all have a wild streak._

_Hope to see you soon,_ _with love,_

_your friend Sam."_

Galvorn cracked a smile, looking up at the dunmer brightly. "Uh, yeah. Hello. I'm the dragonborn, but I try not to introduce myself that way when I can avoid it."

The dunmer's cheeks were dark, but he was looking the wood elf over with bright eyes, an uncertain smile gracing his lips.

"I don't usually er.. _climb_ people when I meet them either." he cleared his throat, straightening up, "I'm a little embarrassed. Er.. that's not normally what I'm like and I'm rather.. Well-" his lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed, extending his hand. "I'm Revyn Sadri, owner of this homely establishment, it's a pleasure to actually meet you."

Gal smiled brightly, accepting his hand, "I'm Galvorn Túrin, and I'm thankful I got to see you again." he paused, hand lingering before holding on a bit more firmly, "I'd like to try something a little backward, I suppose. Would you be adverse to maybe getting dinner tonight when you're done here?" he shifted, "I didn't get a chance to talk to you.. well, after. I'm not one to notch a bedpost and move along."

The dunmer, _Revyn,_ -and wasn't that a lovely name?- startled, seemingly genuinely confused.

Yet, after a deliberate moment, he smiled. "I'd love to."

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm to walk the "dicking down revyn sadri" road alone then im gonna strut. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Note: Drunk people can't consent friends and I dont condone wasted people getting busy. Spit is also not a replacement for lube, but technically they didn't even need that bc they were in Sanguine's realm and idk, hedonist daedric orgy magic.


End file.
